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I took my first driving lesson here in LA yesterday. It had been 26 years since I'd been behind the wheel of a car and I was utterly terrified.
A car accident at 18 almost killed me. It demolished my face and took my left eye and resulted in years of reconstructive surgery.
After that, I was, understandably, shaky behind the wheel. And when I moved to NYC, I let my license lapse. "I don't need it," I said. In truth, I was too scared to drive.
For years, I told myself I could never move anywhere else because then I'd have to drive again. Then I moved to L.A. in September 2020.
Yeah, not driving in L.A.? Not an option. I forced my hand. I do this sometimes, put my own back up against a wall--on creative projects and "life things."
Anyway, I put it off because *gestures to the world* But finally, I realized I had to do it. So when I called and they said, "you can take your first lesson tomorrow" I said yes. Before I could say no.
My instructor Daria is Valium in human form. Amazing. She drove me to Beverly Hills. Sidebar: Beverly Hills is like if "Pleasantville" had been directed by David Lynch.
Like, I look at all of those beautifully manicured lawns and perfect rows of houses and think, "What a pretty house...FILLED WITH BLOOD!" But those are my issues.
I spent probably 5 whole minutes adjusting everything: the seat, the side mirrors, rearview mirror, the seat again. "Daria, this will be the longest day of your life. I'm sorry," I said.
"I teach 15-year-olds how to go on the 405. You're good," she said.
I love Daria.
I put the car in Drive. And inched forward. Like, 10 mph. Hashtag: The Slow and the Furious. Who's gonna be the last girl to Bingo Night? This girl right here.
The depth perception was a bitch. That one-eye thing is A Thing With Which I Must Contend. But slowly, I began making right and left turns, cruising the wide streets of BH, the sun and palm trees whispering me on: You got this.
I said to myself, This is a new life you're making. And you're going to need to drive, honey. You. Must. Drive. So I did. And at one point, Daria said, You're over the speed limit.
If I could've Judd Nelson fist-pumped that moment, I would have. I drove 30 mph. Seriously, that's a victory.
Then it got better.
Then it got better.
We accidentally came up to a commercial street. Santa Monica Blvd with traffic streaming. Daria said we could turn around. "No," I said. "I can do this." I waited for my break and merged into traffic.
I was on Santa Monica Blvd with all the other cars going 35 mph. I told myself not to death-grip the wheel.
Actually, Daria told me first. :)
Actually, Daria told me first. :)
Finally, at the end of the lesson, I said, "I think I can drive back to the house." But to do that, I needed to dart across a street with traffic coming from both directions.
Four lanes. Parked cars, including a van, obstructing my sight lines. I watched the cars whizzing past. I inched forward. And again. Each time wondering how the hell I would get across.
Yes, my heart was racing. Yes, I thought about saying, Let's switch seats. Yes, I wanted to quit.
I inched forward. There was a tiny break in the flow.
I inched forward. There was a tiny break in the flow.
I gunned the engine and sailed through to the other side like it was NASCAR. Well, if people screaming "Holy shit!" internally was the entirety of NASCAR. 
When I parked the car (at the curb!), Daria congratulated me. I had broken the seal on 26 years of a particular fear. I sat on my couch and realized my whole body was shaking as if I had run for miles.
I have a long way to go. And the mere thought of having to drive on a freeway and drive over 40 mph is utterly terrifying to me still. But baby steps.
Anyway, I guess I felt like sharing this so thanks for listening. And I also offer this to say: There are so many ways we hold ourselves back, cage ourselves with fear.
We have a lot more power than we know. We can start new lives and we can start them at 10 mph if need be. Whatever fear you are facing, I see you and I am cheering you on. You got this. 
